


Not a Date (Kind of a Date)

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Accidental Dating, F/M, I'm Actually So Mad And Tagging Is Hard, Why Don't These Losers Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which no one remembers that words are a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Date (Kind of a Date)

The funny thing is, they don’t talk about the kiss.  At first, there’s no time—they’re trying to keep her from being ripped apart, they’re trying to track Willa and/or Bobo, they’re doing a million other things or with a million other people and it gets _really easy_ to pretend it never happened.  So, because sometimes you just gotta be about that path of least resistance, Wynonna goes with it.  There’s a bit of a twinge, some pain that barely registers after all that’s gone on, but that’s easy to push away, too.

The funny thing is, she did _try_ to talk about it.  But then there was a call, or a report, or Doc’s there staring at her like _she_ did something wrong.  At some point, she just stops trying.

The _really_ , riotously funny thing is how it’s not funny at all and she sort of hates it.  It makes it easier to throw herself into the next task, and the next one, and the next one, but she _hates_ it.  Nothing else changes and maybe that’s worse. 

Dolls notices, because of course he does.  “You’re uncharacteristically focused lately,” he comments lowly, snatching his glasses off and tossing them onto the table.

She realizes after a beat too long he’s waiting for a response.  Shrugging, she mutters, “I guess shit got real?”

Silently, he regards her for a long time before drumming his fingers and pushing to his feet.  “C’mon, let’s go eat,” he grunts, nodding toward the door.

“Wait,” she gasps, clutching her chest.  “You mean, both of us?  Leave the station?  At the same time?  To _eat_?”

“See, this is why I don’t do this, Earp,” he sighs.  “C’mon, I need a burger.”

\--

“You wanna split a milkshake?” she hears him ask casually as she frowns at the menu (she has no idea why she’s looking at it, she always gets the same thing).

“Only if it’s strawberry,” she smiles.

“Heathen,” he breathes.  “Vanilla.”

“You’re so boring,” she mumbles.  “I forget you’re a government stiff and then you go and say something like that.”  He gives her one of those smiles—not sarcastic but full of mirth—and she ducks her head.  “Vanilla, but I want the cherry.”

“Good, maraschino cherries are disgusting,” he laughs.

They order a couple of burgers, she spends almost a full minute trying to figure out how he gets away with eating all this greasy food, and when he shifts his shoes knock against hers.  It happens again and she catches his ankle between her feet, narrows her eyes at him.  “Are you twelve?” she demands.

“It’s a small booth!” he answers defensively.

Rolling her eyes, she grunts a dismissive, “Okay, sure.”

She drops her feet and drags them under her seat.  He’s giving her an odd look, soft and thoughtful, and something flutters in her chest.

\--

“What do you _mean_ you went to see a movie?” Waverly asks, looking suspicious.

“I… am not sure what you’re asking me, it seems pretty straight-forward,” Wynonna frowns.  “He said we need a break, there was a movie playing, we went to see it?”  She waits a moment for her sister to say something but she’s still staring, eyes narrowed.  “It was a good movie,” she offers eventually.

“Uh… huh…”

Uncomfortable under Wave’s scrutiny, she starts to back away, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Like a date,” her sister concludes after a long time.

“Not like a date,” she scoffs.

“It sure sounds like a date—I mean—I’ve been on more _actual_ dates than you, and it sounds like a date,” Waverly says almost hesitantly.

“Well, it wasn’t,” Wynonna protests.

“What did you see?  A comedy might not be a date, but that new horror flick—it was the horror movie, wasn’t it?”

Chewing her lip, she nods, “Okay, it was the horror movie, but like—I see worse at _work_ it’s not like we _cuddled_.”

This isn’t _quite_ a lie.  There was some awfully close leaning, _maybe_ an arm around her shoulders but that hadn’t been—it wasn’t like that.  She knows damn _well_ it wasn’t like that because if it _had_ been like that the dude had about a thousand opportunities to _make it like that_.  So, really, it’s nothing, they just… needed a break.

\--

“This does _not_ qualify as a break,” Wynonna laughs into her beer, resting her weight into her pool cue while Dolls lines up his shot.  “If I’m drinking—hell, if _you’re_ drinking—we’re officially off work for the night.”

Smirking, he takes his turn and misses, narrowly.  “We’re off for the night,” he responds evenly.

“That’s reasonable of you,” she teases, lining up.

“Well, we’re not gonna get anywhere if you burn out on me,” he counters in the same tone.  “I probably would have suggested something else if I’d known how shit you are at pool.”

Exaggeratedly, she pouts and bats her eyes up at him.  “Maybe you should show me how?” she asks, sugary-sweet.

There’s a moment, just a flash, where he moves right into her space, hand sliding over the edge of the pool table next to her hip.  She can’t help the way her eyes dip to his lips before up again to meet his gaze, and she realizes she’s holding her breath.  It feels like it lasts too long and the rest of the bar vanishes for just that time.

Then he grabs his beer and smirks, “Nah, I like winning too much.”

Letting out her pent-up breath, she scowls at him.  “ _That_ was uncalled for,” she mutters.  “I got the next round,” she sighs as she drains the last warm dregs of her drink.  Sidling up to the bar, she bumps her shoulder against Nicole’s because she’s _learned_ she won’t get her sister’s attention from any other spot.  The cop nudges her back, huffing a gentle chuckle.  “No rush, just runnin’ low… out…  Okay, slight rush,” Wynonna tells Waverly.

Her sister just rolls her eyes and laughs.  “You two seemed to be having fun,” she comments.

“One of us more than the other,” Wynonna returns, pulling a face.  She turns to the cop at her side, sans uniform.  “You guys doing anything tonight?”

“I’ve been trying to convince her to break out the karaoke machine,” Nicole replies confidentially.

“Oh, man, you should!” she gasps.

“We have Karaoke Saturdays for a reason!” Waverly says firmly, eyeing them.

\--

Now, Wynonna isn’t drunk.  She’s been drinking cheap beer all night, sure—but it’s cheap beer.  It’s practically water.  Dolls, on the other hand—he may not be dancing on tables, but he’s slipping, she can tell in the lazy way he _swaggers_ around the table and how heavy his hands are when he touches her.  “Gettin’ a _little_ friendly, there, boss—not that I’m complaining, but should I take you home?” she offers, taking her shot and watching with at least _some_ satisfaction when the right ball tumbles into the pocket.

His grasp falls away when she moves to the corner, lining up a shot she never had a chance at.

“I’m not drunk,” he says, leaning into his cue.

“Swiftly approaching, then,” she replies.

His movements are slow when he comes to hunch at her side.  “Do you wanna take me home?” he asks, something buried in his voice that makes her hot all over.

“Little bit,” she whispers, turning so their lips almost brush.  “It’s your turn.”

He takes it and just misses.  “That would have been really smooth if I’d made it,” he mutters, smile easy and warm.

\--

Once they get to the homestead, Dolls mumbles, “I am _never_ letting you drive me anywhere ever again.”

He follows her up through the door, lets her push him against it and slam their lips together.  The groan he gives at the biting kiss sends a shock rippling through her.  She gasps.  His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, gentler than she expected.  She moves backwards, tugging him along with her with her fingers fisted in the front of his sweater.

He doesn’t stop kissing her until she bumps back into a wall, when she breaks away with a breathless laugh.  She crashes up into his mouth again, quick and rough, before he pulls away.  For a beat longer, he holds her there against the wall, only looking at her in a way that makes her face burn.

“We should have done this a _week_ ago,” she teases, words warbling a little with the uncertainty she’s not entirely able to tamp down.

“Yeah,” he responds, fingers stroking down her cheek.

She lets herself be drawn into another kiss, this one softer, less desperate, and maybe they’ve got time for that.  She likes to think they’re allowed that much.  Even under that, though, it feels like drowning and he’s the only source of air which is _cheesy as hell_ but also… pretty accurate, given how tight her chest suddenly feels.

“I need to breathe!” she gasps, pushing him away again.  “Can we save the kinky stuff for the bedroom, please?”

“Lead the way,” he murmurs.

\--

It’s a shame, she thinks, she woke alone, because she was having the most _delicious_ dream she can’t wait to make a reality.  Stretching serenely, she hops out of bed and drags a pair of shorts over her hips, tugs his discarded sweater over her head.  The chilly morning wakes her up a little more and she crosses her arms against it, wrapping them around her chest, as she stumbles into the living room.  After a brief search turns up no Dolls, she starts to get a little jumpy.

Yanking the front door open, she sees his SUV’s still there—and he’s in it.  He hasn’t seen her yet; she watches him press something— _is that a gun?_ —to his throat, and when he pulls the trigger even at this distance she can see his eyes glow, the way he gasps.

_That’s_ when he notices her standing here, mouth open.  He drops the thing and tumbles out.  His eyes are still weird, and when he stomps closer she can see that they’re not quite human.  When he’s close, she almost stumbles a step back but something keeps her still.

“Uh, so that’s interesting,” she says, voice coming out weak and cracked.

His fingers brush her elbow, “Let’s go inside.  Too cold out here for shorts.”

Head bobbing, she turns away, leaves the door open behind her, and hears it close after him.  “So, what aren’t you telling me?” she asks, steadier than she really feels.

“I’m still me,” he says instead.  Suddenly, she hadn’t even heard his footsteps, he’s in front of her.  His eyes have faded back to brown.

“Yeah, but what are you?”

Looking down, his hands clench and release before he answers, “I’m human, mostly.  No one really knows.  I’m different—that injection controls it.”

\--

They go right back to not talking about it.  He stays for breakfast and it’s—if she’s being kind, it’s surreal.  There’s just something about eating oatmeal next to someone who isn’t human, not really, who you also just slept with.  She’s wondering if maybe she should write a book.  _How to Navigate Interpersonal Relationships When You’re Surrounded by Monsters_ by Wynonna Earp has a nice ring to it.  She lets her spoon fall into her half-full bowl and pushes it away to make room for her elbows on the table.

“So, I’m thinking,” she starts, waiting for his gaze to drag up to hers.  “If you’re _mostly_ human, and human in the anatomical sense—I mean, maybe this could work.”  Her brow furrows before she continues, “If you want.”

“Do _you_ want to?” he prompts quietly, face frustratingly blank.

“Well, yeah,” she scoffs.  “Plus, if I start dismissing every possibility just because they’re not 100% human, at the rate things are going, I may have no options left.”  His eyebrows shoot up.  “We could try?”

Leaning back, he lets out a long breath.  Then, he offers a cautious smile.  “Okay.”

Answering with a grin of her own, she scoots forward and whispers, “This is the part where you kiss me.”

**Author's Note:**

> A request by a lovely anon--which I always appreciate. You can send me requests at my [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) or come by and ask me why I love/hate these nerds.


End file.
